


Aftermath

by waltraud



Series: Young Inspector Morse (Endeavour) [3]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Concussions, Dizziness, Fainting, Hurt/Comfort, Passing Out, Sickfic, Whump, taking care, throwing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24758902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltraud/pseuds/waltraud
Summary: Running after another suspect, leaving everyone behind at the crime scene, had probably not been one of his brightest ideas for the day.Doing it, when it was getting dark already and also raining, made his task not any simpler.
Series: Young Inspector Morse (Endeavour) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784299
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	1. Concussion

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there,  
> I only realized, how often Morse gets hit over the head and blacks out. So I had that idea to make something of it.  
> There will be multiple chapters (two or three I think).
> 
> Hope you like it so far.  
> Let me know in a comment or leave me some kudos.  
> I'd realy appreciate that.
> 
> Hope you are all doing well.  
> Love
> 
> Waltraud  
> (Sorry for any mistakes, I am a little tired by now)
> 
> _PS.: If anyone is interested in a German translation, let me know and I will make one._

Running after another suspect, leaving everyone behind at the crime scene, had probably not been one of his brightest ideas for the day.   
Doing it, when it was getting dark already and also raining, made his task not any simpler.

It was nearly impossible for him to see, where he was running, the streets they passed through were getting smaller and darker as their chase went on. The uneven stones beneath his shoes becoming slicker by the minute.  
He heard more, than he could actually see, he was getting closer to his target. The tall man’s steps becoming louder and louder until he was able to hear his heavy breathing over the falling rain.

His own lungs were burning in the cold air as he was sucking in breath after breath, his left side slightly stinging by now.   
He could only hope the other man was feeling similar, or he would stand no chance in catching him.

Lurching around the next corner, he was caught absolutely of guard.   
One moment he was running, the next he felt a heavy blow to his right temple, that knocked his head to the left. What little balance he had have was gone in an instant and without any grace he fell to the ground.

He felt his left shoulder painfully connect with the cobblestones beneath.   
Heavy steps running away.  
He tried to lift his head from the ground, but could not move an inch.  
Could not see.  
There was only pain and than … Nothing.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_“Morse!”_

He was drifting.  
Somewhere between sleep and reality.

_“Morse!”_

If only that annoying noise would stop.

“MORSE!”

A slight sting in his cheek had him open his eyes with a start.

Blinking a few times he finally could make out the worried face of Thursday, hovering above him.   
He blinked again as the face seemed to blur a little, bringing it back into focus.

His head hurt.

A faint memory of his last hangover brushed his mind.  
This: was a lot worse.

“You with me again, Morse?”

He realized he was laying on the ground.   
His clothes soaked.  
He was cold.  
With a low moan he tried to move himself to a more upright position.  
Strong hands helping him up.  
For a second his vision went grey as the street whirled around him. 

“Deep breath, Morse.”

He did as he was told.  
Finally the dizziness pulled back. Not dissipating completely, but taking its nauseating edge away, as his sight became more steady again.   
He hissed, as a dull pain in his left shoulder made itself known.

“What happened?” It was only than, that Morse remembered, he was not alone.  
He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.  
Clearing his throat, he tried again, this time managing to actually make his tongue and vocal chords work.  
“Not so sure.” His own voice sounded slightly slurred in his ears.  
He had some vague memory of chasing someone in the dark, but nothing else.

“Well, nasty blow you’ve earned yourself there to your head, I’d say”, Thursday said. “Anything else hurting?”  
Morse thought about it, shivering in his wet suit.  
“Only my head … and my shoulder”, he answered after some consideration.  
Thursday gently inspected his arm. It could be moved without resistance, but the movement was quite painful, making Morse’s eyes water in the process.   
“Seems only to be bruised, I’d say. Do you think you can make it a few steps outside this narrow alley, so we can get you checked out.”  
He shrugged, not sure about it himself, but made to get up nevertheless.  
Thursday hurried to get his arms beneath his unhurt shoulder to help him stand.  
Again the world tilted in front of his eyes.   
His head hammered in tact with the pulsing in his ears and he franticly swallowed against the raising nausea.

Somehow Thursday managed to get him to the car and safely inside without to much trouble. 

Time seemed to skip, as the next thing he became aware of was sitting in an uncomfortable chair, while the DI was speaking to a nurse at the counter.   
He soon was led to sit on a gurney in the A &E, a blanket around his shoulders and waited for the doctor to have a look at him. The nurse, who took his vitals, had offered him a hospital gown to change into, but he vehemently had declined. He hated those things which seemed to leave more body parts in the open, than they concealed.

Finally a young man in a white lab coat came.   
He introduced himself, but it took only seconds for Morse to forget his name again.  
“So I heard you took a blow to the head, Constable”, he said in a strange way of greeting.   
“Seems like it”, Morse said tiredly.   
“Have you lost consciousness at any point?” The doctor kept asking, while he checked his pupils and palpated his neck and skull.  
“He was out as a light, when I found him”, Thursday chipped in. “Took me a good few minutes to rouse him. He kind of looses his focus since from time to time, but he has not passed out again.”  
“Aha. And do you have any clue, how long he had been lying there unconscious?”   
“Could not have been more than ten minutes. I lost sight of him, when he entered the smaller streets, but I didn’t take to long finding him again.”  
“Good… good”, the doctor said, more to himself, than anyone specific.   
“Mr. Morse, do you remember what happened?”  
“I was chasing some suspect but than … nothing.”  
“So some short amnesia”, the young man mumbled, making a quick note on Morse’s clipboard.   
“Any other symptoms you’re experiencing? Headache, dizziness?”  
Morse hesitated before answering.   
“My shoulder hurts. I think I bruised it, when I fell. As does my head. And yes, I feel a little dizzy now and then, but nothing to bad, I would say.” Which was only half the truth, but he did not wish to have to stay the night at the hospital.  
“Hm.” The doctor wrote down a few more words. The he turned his attention to his left arm, prodding its joints with his long fingers before carefully moving them in all possible directions.   
“Well Constable, nothing broken there I think, we will get a x-ray of your shoulder just to be sure. But you have found yourself a nice concussion back in that alley. Probably nothing a few days of rest and observation could not heal.”

_A few days of observation._

“I wont stay here for observation”, he declared harshly, making Thursday and the doctor jump a little in surprise.  
The two men looked at each other, uncertainness in their eyes.   
“You know, lad, how about we first get you that x-ray, and then we will talk about it again”, the DI suggested.   
Morse shrugged his shoulder. There was nothing to discuss about that.  
He would not again stay at the hospital longer than absolutely necessary.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The x-ray indeed showed his upper arm and shoulder not to be broken, and about half an hour later, Morse stepped out of the hospital into the dark night, hearing the DI’s steps close behind him.  
Thursday and the doctor again and again had tried to convince him he would be better of in the hospital for a night or two, but he did not want to hear any about it, simply getting up and walking out on them, when they would not stop despite him repeatedly refusing.

“You are as stubborn as a mule. You know that?” Thursday said, when finally they were sitting in the car again.   
Morse gave a sigh and closed his eyes, leaning his pounding head against the cool window glass.   
He was glad, his boss did not speak to him anymore as they started their drive.

Every bump in the street, every turn they took intensified his headache, bringing back the dizziness and nausea with full force.  
He opened his eyes, shifting in his seat, hoping the feeling would ebb away.

It didn’t.

“You alright there?” Thursday gave him a quick questioning look, as he again shifted in his seat.

He swallowed, saliva starting to pool in his mouth.

“Not so much”, he said, swallowing again, tasting bile on the back of his tongue.

He could feel the DI’s eyes on him. Observing him.

“You’re looking a little peaky. Need me to pull over?” The inspector asked, already driving in a slower pace.

For a second Morse was tempted to shake his head.   
He just wished to get home.  
This was just to humiliating.  
But then it occurred to him, it would be even more humiliating if he decorated the interior of the jag with his stomach contents, as his stomach clenched beneath his trembling fingers.

“Could be better”, he said, his voice not much more than a whisper. 

Thursday had stopped the car in a street Morse did not know.   
His hands clammy he shaky opened the door, positioning himself on the edge of his seat, his feet outside on the pavement widely apart, not daring to get up, fearing he would fall down if he tried to stand.   
He took some deep breaths of cool air. Begging for his stomach to calm down.  
Thursday did not say a word, but he could feel his eyes on his neck. 

“You know, we could slowly drive on, and I will stop immediately if you tell me to”, the Inspector carefully said after waiting for many minutes without anything to happen.  
Morse slightly shook his head, not daring to speak just know.   
The nausea was still there, still strong, and he was sure, there would be a disaster as soon as he would turn around in his seat.  
He felt his stomach contract.   
Felt its contents slowly rise.  
He carefully leant forward, his elbows on his knees, his pounding head propped up by his hands.

The first retch made him rock forward a little, but brought nothing with it than a wet sounding burp and some metallic taste on his tongue, that made him shudder.   
“That’s it, lad. Just get it over. Just get it up, if that’s what your body needs.”  
He felt Thursdays calming hand on his back, heard his calming words, as he was shaken by the next retch, bringing up a mouth full of something, he wished not to think about to much, but that by now had a rotten taste to it.   
He coughed and spit, triggering his gag reflex and bringing forth another, huger wave of his half digested dinner, nearly choking on it before he again was able to draw in a shuddering breath.   
He again spat and cleared his throat.  
Waited.  
The nausea was still there, lingering, but not as fierce as before.

Carefully, trying not to make any quick movements, he lifted his feet back inside the car and leant back in his seat, his eyes closed.

“You think you’re done?” Thursday asked, his voice low and calm.  
“For the moment”, Morse answered, without opening his eyes.  
“Just give me a sign, and I will pull over again. Alright?”  
“Mhm.” He felt so tiered. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A hand on his shoulder woke him up some time later. He did not know how long he had been asleep.  
He had to blink a few times, before the world around him became more clear.

“This is not where I live”, he said and already felt it was not a very intelligent thing to say.  
“No, as you should be well aware of, as you come here most days of the week to pick me up, this is the place where _I_ live.”  
“Oh.”  
“What, did you think I would just drop you of at your flat with that nice concussion you have and with no one near by to make sure you will not pass out again or stop breathing at all?”  
“Hm...” He hesitated. “Thank you.”  
He had indeed been thinking the Inspector would bring him home and leave him there. He was sure he would have managed somehow.  
He had been looking after himself since he was twelve.   
He was not used to others taking care of him.  
Not anymore.

Thursday helped him to the front door.  
“Sam is not at home. Went for some vacation with some of his friends. I’m sure he will not mind if you’re using his bed. Should be more comfortable than the couch I’d say.”  
Morse nodded. It did not really matter to him where he would sleep as long as he was allowed to lie down soon and close his eyes.

He was led upstairs. He had only come as far as the living room and the kitchen in the past.   
They entered a small, tidy room. Thursday sat him down on a chair and handed him a pair of pyjamas.   
“Do you think you will manage changing on your own?”   
He nodded.  
The DI gave him a quick pad to the shoulder, the one he had not bruised.   
“I will just go and get a few things. Try not to do anything stupid while I am gone, understood.”  
He nodded again.

Getting dressed was an annoyingly slow and painful task, but at least he was halfway decent, when Thursday returned a few minutes later.  
“Here”, he said. “I brought you a few things.”  
He deposited a glass of water on the nightstand, along with some painkillers. He helped him to the bed and pushed an ice bag to his hands.   
“Thought you might like that for your headache.”  
Then he again went outside coming back only seconds later, a small bucket in his hands, which he placed on the floor, easily to reach and near his head.  
“The bathroom is just down the floor, the second door on the right. But I thought we would better be safe than sorry.”  
Morse was glad for the consideration.  
For the moment, the queasiness was nearly gone, but he was not sure, it would stay like that, with the way his head was still hurting.  
“Do you think you’ve got everything you need, for now?”, Thursday asked.  
“Yes, thank you, Sir.” He was nearly half asleep again.  
“Get some rest then. I will come back in a while and have a look at you.”

With that the DI left as Morse’s breath evened out.

TBC


	2. Back to work

“Pet, I’m home!” Fred Thursday’s voice was hollering through the house.  
“Hush!” His wife hurried to the hall, her index finger pressed against her lips. “Keep it down, will you. He only fell asleep an hour ago.”  
“Oh.” The DI’s face contorted in guild. “How is he doing?”  
“Not too bad, I would say, considering the circumstances. Still a bit uncertain on his feet and hurting all over, but he had some toast for lunch, which luckily stayed down.”

Thursday had a look at his watch. It was early still.   
He sat down on the couch, enjoying a nice cup of tea and the silence in his house, while Win was preparing their dinner. 

_BANG!_   
The front door was violently jerked open, loudly connecting with the wall.  
“I am back again!” Sam could be heard.   
Thursday breathed a silent curse, lifting himself from his comfortable position.  
Sam entered the room, followed by his sister. They must have met at the bus stop.   
“Where’s Morse?”, Joan asked, looking around.  
“Well”, her Mother said, from the hallway. “Just until now, I’d have said he is upstairs, sleeping, but after the ruckus your brother just made, I’d not be sure of that anymore.”  
Sam rose an eyebrow in confusion.   
“Why would Morse be sleeping upstairs?”  
“Oh”, his sister chipped in, before Thursday was able to answer his question. “I forgot to tell you on the way back. Dad brought him home last night, after some battering. Was still quite out of it, when I saw him in the morning.”  
“Oh. Sorry. Did he get hurt badly?”  
“A blue eye, a slight concussion and some bruising ...” Thursday shrugged his shoulders as he counted up the injuries of his Constable on his fingers.

“Dinner’s ready!” Win announced. “Joan, dear, would you mind going upstairs and see if Morse wants to come down to eat?”  
Her daughter nodded and hurried up the stairs returning a short time later with a slightly dishevel looking Constable close behind.   
They took their seats at the dining table, where Win eagerly filled their plates with a delicious smelling shepherd's pie.   
“So Morse, how are you doing?” Thursday asked.  
“Not to bad, I think. A bit sore still”, the young man answered.  
Thursday eyed him carefully, while he picked at his food. He did indeed look a lot better, than last night, but the way he moved and squinted slightly in the light, Thursday supposed, he was playing it down a little.   
The food was fantastic and soon most of the pie was gone.  
“Well then”, Morse said and made to stand. “Thank you for letting me stay and thanks for the food.”  
“And where exactly do you think you’re going?” Thursday asked, already knowing the answer.  
“Back to my flat.” Irritation mixed in his voice.   
“Why not stay another night?”, Win suggested.  
Morse looked at her baffled.  
“I’ve already overstrained your hospitality, Mrs. Thursday. And as I said before, I’m feeling a lot better by know. It’s time to return to my own flat.”  
“You know”, Sam said, “I would not mind sharing my room with you for another night. I could also sleep on the couch, if that’s better with you.”  
Thursday felt a bang of proudness in his chest, hearing his son’s words. They surely had raised him to a decent young man.   
Morse did not hesitate with his answer. “And I appreciate your offer, but I’d really like to sleep in my own bed. Thanks a lot still.”  
With a sigh Thursday rose from his chair.   
“Better get going than, I’d say. You’re lucky I’ve brought the Jaguar with me tonight. Come on, lad. I will give you a lift home.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thursday made sure his Constable got safely down the few steps and into his flat, before saying his good bye.

Morse was glad to be at home again.   
He liked the Thursdays, and it had really been nice of them to take him in last night, but still he did not wish to intrude their privacy more than necessary.   
With slow movements he took a shower. He had have a quick sponge bath when he woke up in the morning, but it was only half an hour later, when he stepped from his bathroom, a towel around his hips, his hair still tripping wet, that he felt in fact clean again. 

He chose his favourite record, changed in one of his own pyjamas and snuggled down in his sheets, feeling quite tired by now.  
He was asleep only moments later.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning Thursday entered the station, while Jakes brought the car to the parking lot.   
He blinked in surprise as he entered the office.  
“Morse! What are you doing here?”, he called, making the Constable jump a little in his chair.  
“Working, Sir”, he said, giving him his most innocent look.   
“And who exactly declared you fit for duty?”  
“But Sir, I feel fine. And I know how short handed we are right now.”   
Thursday took some time to have a proper look at him.   
“Only desk work for today, am I understood?”, he finally said. _And with the first sign of feeling unwell, he would send the lad home again and have a doctor put him to bed rest for the rest of the week._

The day went on without much to happen. A car theft. A girl reported missing, but returning home from school two hours later, where she had been playing with some of her friends, having forgotten the time. Paperwork.  
They yesterday had closed down their latest murder case, with the guy Morse had tried to chase down, being caught by some bobbys on patrol. Preparing for court always meant a lot of forms to fill, so he could not say he felt bored at all.  
At noon he decided to have a little break and eat his sandwich.   
“Morse, time for a break”, he said, sticking his head in the office. During the morning he had used every little opportunity to have a quick look at his Constable, finding nothing worrying, as Morse was tipping away on his typewriter, the stack of paper on his desk becoming smaller and smaller.

With a glance to the paper he was working on, the young man reluctantly got up from his chair and followed him from the building.   
“Still a bit sore”, Thursday asserted, noticing he was still moving a little stiff.  
Morse shrugged his shoulders. “Should be like that for a few more days, I guess.”  
“How’s the head doing?”  
“Mostly healed I would say.”  
Thursday eyed him doubtfully, but said nothing. He knew how stubborn Morse could be and there was no use in starting an argument about any of this. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He was not at all surprised, it was Morse, who was waiting in his hallway to pick him up the next morning.  
His blue eye had faded a little, but was still prominent on his pale skin.  
The lad cleared his throat before greeting him. His movements were not as fluently as usual, but all in all he seemed to be on the right track.  
A few more days and he would be back at running all over Oxford, having picked up some lead no one else had seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Authors-Note: Thursday may think that way. But we all know it will not be long, until he gets himself knocked out again, shot, drugged up … So there will be lots of stuff for me to write about :P_
> 
> Hope you liked it. Leave me some comments or kudos :D
> 
> See you soon.
> 
> Love  
> Waltraud


End file.
